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Orignally posted August 8th 2007


I

Systems 20 percent operational and dropping

Every few minutes that voice made its report the situation only grew more dismal.

Ronis Kraal watched the woman with brown skin and dark, cropped hair a few paces away with blazing red lightsaber held calmly in her outstretched left hand. She stood alone and unscratched among the rubble of what, a few moments ago, was a Republic relay station. The stone like expression on her face belied the fury with which she laid waste to the structure and the fires that blazed around her seemed to shrink in her presence as if afraid.

What have I gotten into?

That was the question that repeatedly raced through the bounty hunter’s throbbing head as characters danced across the readout on the inside of his helmet’s cracked visor.

Systems 18 percent operational and dropping

The din of heavy rainfall sounded as it fell through a massive hole in the roof of the facility and pounded against his armor. Once the crash of thunder in the distance had subsided he could hear the water droplets sizzle as they were consumed by the woman’s blood colored lightsaber and just then, a feeling of despair had clenched Ronis Kraal’s gut and wouldn’t let go.

What the HELL have I gotten into?

The servos in his armor resisted him as he climbed to his feet from his kneeling position and the system voice told him that his armor had spent another three percent of its meager remaining power just making that slight move.

“Oh good. I was beginning to think you were done.” Nevara Zerev spoke. The cybernetic monocle that had long replaced her left eye clicked and whirred and a smirk crossed her face when she heard the bounty hunter moan as he got up.

“Not a chance in hell, Zerev.” He protested in a digitally amplified tone “Though I may rip that tongue out of your 500,000 credit skull when I’m done with you.”

“That’s what its up to now, is it?” She asked in a tone that suggested she was somewhat impressed with herself.

“Don’t be so smug. You haven’t won yet.” Kraal said once he was completely upright again.

Systems 12 percent operational and dropping

Snikt. With a mere thought, the gauntlets covering the bounty hunter’s arms sprouted a pair of identical 12 inch long vibroblades.

“And just what do you plan on doing with those, bounty hunter?” Nevara questioned with a raised eyebrow when she saw the blades.

“They’ve got cortosis weave. They can easily withstand that lightsaber of yours.”

“Ha! A shame your whole damn suit doesn’t have the stuff.” Nevara taunted as she lowered her light saber but raised her right hand to her side and kept her eyes on Kraal.

“Come on then, we’ll finish this!!” Kraal took a step forward, his head swimming but his mind determined on slaying the conceited Jedi woman. He raised his blades and prepared to strike when Nevara pointed her lightsaber at him before he could take another step.

“That’s far enough.” She stated just as a large pile of rubble off to her side began to shift and rumble before a rather sizable chunk began levitating from the ground at the behest of her command of the Force.
The large piece of metal that was once part of the roof hovered in place and Kraal cursed to himself as he surmised what was next.

“Those blades may be impressive Kraal, but I believe the old adage is ‘Mine’s bigger than yours’” Nevara said with a wolfish grin before she threw her arm forward and launched the chunk of rubble at him at a frightening speed.

Kraal fought his armor to get out of the makeshift projectile’s path, but realized all too late that it was not to be.

System power failure. Imminent shutdown in 5…4…3…2…1

Added on September 2nd 2007

III

“This damn planet…” Nevara muttered to herself while turning her head and looking to the sky. She lifted her hood slightly before lowering it again and continuing forward. The unforgiving mid day sun harassed the rogue Jedi while she traversed the polished metal streets that honeycombed the megalopolis of New Stratmoth and the innate annoyance she felt at being a part of a large urban crowd began to weigh heavily on her already short nerve.

The roar of the airspeeder engines that scoured the skylanes above the mighty structures towering over the narrow streets on every side did nothing to drown out the mind-numbing chatter of New Stratmoth’s populace.

Between merchants pitching their wares, children running about with little regard for others and the idle, meaningless chatter among traveling companions Nevara made no attempt to harbor the mounting annoyance she had felt for her fellow sentients. She clenched her teeth in silent frustration and scanned the crowd as if looking for someone to make an example of before she resolved to put more of a haste in her step rather than lash out and draw attention to herself.

Her cloak trailed behind her while she weaved through human, alien and droid bodies alike, gruffly shoving people out of her path as she moved.
“Watch it!” A native Duros growled at her when her forceful hand caused him to stagger forward. He seemed taken back, however, when he saw the glow of Nevara’s red prosthetic eye challenge him from the shadows cast by the Jedi’s hood.

When she realized the alien had no further comment, Nevara continued on her path when she noticed a garish sign above a doorway a few dozen paces down the street. Choosing to ignore the mutterings brought about by the stung pride of the alien she challenged just moments ago, Nevara made her way to the cantina.

------

“Huh. I’ve never seen you around here before.” A yellow skinned Zabrak observed Nevara through the drinking glass he had raised before his beady gray eyes.

“I’m just passing through, friend.” The jedi lowered her hood and eyed her new surroundings momentarily before turning to the bartender. She removed several coins from inside the left sleeve of her cloak and placed them on the dirty surface bar before taking a seat on a barstool.

“Corellian Rum. No Ice. Leave the bottle.” She said simply.

“Ha! Right to the point, I like that!” The black tattoos on the Zabrak’s face shifted as he swooped the coins up with a smile and put the glass he had in his hand down in front of Nevara. He turned his back for only a minute to retrieve a bottle from the shelf behind him before placing that in front of her as well.

Nevara lifted the bottle, bit down on the cork and pulled it free with her teeth while scanning the cantina again. The modest crowd, in its segmented, smaller groups, laughed, shared stories and argued over games of Pazaak and matters of swoop while enjoying the smooth Jatz music and the varied drinks of countless worlds.

On a smaller stage next to the bandstand where a band of Bith musciains tirelessly played, Nevara caught sight of a pair of Twi’Lek dancers while pouring her drink without looking. She watched the two blue skinned females, who could have been twin sisters for all Nevara knew, move sensually and in sync with each other. Downing the whole of her glass of rum, Nevara felt a delightfully warm sensation pass through her system and immediately began pouring a second glass while she continued watching the fluid, almost serpentine-like moves of the two scantily clad alien women.

“I paid top dollar to get those two to dance here. They’re a couple of prima donnas, but the extra money their act brings in is worth putting up with the attitudes.” The bartender explained to Nevara, who simply scoffed in response.

“I’m not fond of tentacle-heads, myself.” She told him while downing another glass and progressing to her third helping. Not since an especially snotty one caused the injury that led to this blasted thing.” She raised her glass to her cybernetic left eye and lifted a finger to point to the prosthetic.

“Ouch. Tell me you got them back.”

The third glass of Corellian rum was now empty. “She’ll get hers.” Nevara promised. “Ohhh, how she’ll get hers…”

An uproar of applause caused Nevara and bartender to look back to the two Twi’lek dancers. They watched four men in orange and gray uniforms applauding the pair of dancers, who paused to take a bow and seemed to revel in the attention the human republic soldiers gave them.

“Those four have practically been living here since the base where they were stationed got destroyed.”

“Destroyed? That’s a shame…” Nevara muttered, looking away and finding solace in her drink as she poured another glass.

“Yup. They were here when it happened and now they’re stranded until another Republic ship arrives. Word has it that everyone at the relay station was killed, but no one is quite sure what happened. Some folks saw what they think might have been Sith soldiers snooping around after the fact, though.”

“Eh. Republic. Sith. I don’t really like either of them.” She commented, opting to drink only half of her glass this time. “A bunch of self serving, nerf-herders if you ask me.”

The bartender chuckled at the comment. “Are you normally this chatty? Not many off-worlders come in here alone and strike up conversations with strangers.”

Nevara shrugged in response. “I usually don’t bother with other sentients, but your kind has one of the most crucial roles in the galaxy.” She told him.

“And what’s that?”

“You provide the alcohol.” Nevara replied while finishing her fourth glass and starting her fifth.

“So it isn’t the search for companionship that brings you to my humble establishment?”

“I need to get to Old Stratmoth. How do I…” Nevara shook her head to clear an inecplicable wave of dizziness that suddenly assaulted her. “Gyuh…This is good, strong rum. I need to come here more often.” She complimented while raising the bottle in her hand. “But back to the point, how do I get to Old Stratmoth?”

She then noticed sharp teeth form into a wolfish grin on the bartender’s face. “What’s so damn funny?” She inquired before shaking her head just as, seemingly out of nowhere, the room began to spin. The jedi had to catch herself from falling off of her stool when she felt herself sway. She looked down at her glass and then up to the Zabrak for an explanation. He said something to her, but his words were lost on a haze just as the cantina music playing in the background seemed to slow to a crawl. Nevara uttered a curse, lunged forward and grabbed the bartender by the collar of his shirt before a strong hand gripped her wrist and forced her to let go. She turned to see an unfamiliar, heavily scarred human face but couldn’t make out the words it uttered.

The scarred man motioned his head to the right, causing Nevara to look back over her shoulder. She noticed several of the cantina patrons getting up from their tables and slowly moving towards her before time itself became a fractured montage of violent behavior on the parts of all involved.

The bottle of Corellian Rum was snatched from the bar and Nevara managed to smash it across the man’s scarred face and thus free her arm. She barely heard the loud cry of surprise and the shattering of glass despite having caused both, but that wasn’t something she had the luxury of worrying about right now.

Before shards of glass and her assailant even hit the cantina floor, the besieged jedi went for her lightsaber. It took her several moments to realize that it had just been pulled from her waist beneath her cloak and spirited into the slender hands of a stately, white skinned Arkanian male who stood in the center of the room.

“YOU!!” Nevara heard herself scream in hatred before one of the approaching cantina patrons thrust a hand forward and willed the force to lightly shove Nevara back into the bar.

Nevara felt weighed down. Sluggish. Even recovering from the minor force push seemed like something of a monumental task.
Willing every ounce of anger and frustration she could muster, Nevara held out her hands to either side and used her command of the force to launch the barstools on either side of her into the approaching mob.

The Arkanian simply used his own apparent force abilities to cast one aside while using two fingers on the hand that clenched Nevara’s weapon to guide the second barstool back at her.

She cursed and threw herself to the ground to barely avoid being hit by the projectile, but by the time she recovered the mob was on top of her.

Letting out a defiant, angry yell, Nevara tried to fight them off with wild swings and punches. Her desperate bravado ceased when she struggled to breathe as one of their number cut her off with an invisible hold to her neck while the others, human and varied alien species alike forced her down and held her to the cantina floor. The sheer press of bodies kept her pinned while the Arkanian stepped forward and looked down at his catch.
He spoke a word to the mob he commanded and then turned and walked away.

The scarred man, bleeding from his nose and face, suddenly appeared in Nevara’s view. He said something inaudible to the departing Arkanian before raising a big boot and bringing it down on Nevara’s face. The slow, upbeat tempo of the cantina music still played and the Republic officers still cheered their voluptuous dancers as Nevara fell into unconsciousness.